


Seek and You Will Find

by RegalMisfortune



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Mixed With Other, Character building, Expanding on the Searching Comic, No Proofreading/Editing- We Die Like Lazy Fools, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Worldbuilding, Zarya-Centric, omnic prejudice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:22:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalMisfortune/pseuds/RegalMisfortune
Summary: Zarya is tasked with a not-so-simple objective: locate and bring the elusive hacker Sombra to justice.The world is a large place, filled with unknown enemies and unlikely allies. The closer she gets to the goal, the more ambivalent the truth becomes- if she so chooses to acknowledge that not everything is as it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my second long-fic regarding Zarya!
> 
> This one will be sticking closer to the canon, with a smattering of my own thoughts and opinions. Long goal is to write out and fill in the gaps in the Searching comic, and hoping if all goes well branch further out- we will see when we get there.

**Krasnoyarsk Front, Siberia, Russia**

The ground trembled underfoot as explosions sent dust and scrap into the air. A cheer rose over the distant gunfire as the comms in their ears crackled with orders, sending units further off to chase the routing omnics before they could regroup.

Zarya let the butt of the particle cannon hit the stained earth to lean against, taking the minute breather to run thick fingers through dirty and slickened strands of hair. The skirmishes were getting worse as the weeks went by, the blasted omnics learning and changing their tactics with every battle. They were now fleeing when the fight turned against their favor instead of fighting ‘til the last bot standing, conserving resources and guns. She could see it, but many of her commanding officers thought of it has having the omnics on the ropes rather than a worrying trait that perhaps they were biding their time.

Every battle filled her with pride, but also with worry that she was quick to stamp out. She was to focus on protecting her people and take out as many of the omnics that dared threaten them on the day-to-day basis, not worry about the larger picture. Her life and the lives of the men and women around her were of far greater importance in the scheme of pushing back the omnics than contemplating beyond her standing.

“ _Sergeant Zaryanova.”_ The comm buzzed in her ear, causing her to pull a face at the sharp static.

“Zaryanova here,” she answered back, wiggling the comm in hopes it wouldn’t hurt nearly as much the next time.

“ _Sergeant, return to the Outpost and report to Captain Utkin.”_

“Understood.” Zarya didn’t quite understand, but there was no room to ask unnecessary questions as she lifted her cannon back up to her shoulder, giving a nod to two others on her team before picking her way back through the no-man’s land to hitch a ride alongside some of the wounded, her eyes watchful and wary for any straggling omnics who thought them to be easy pickings.

“Don’t think you look wounded enough for this ride,” one man grinned despite his face being as pale as the wisps of clouds above them, the wrappings around his leg already stained an ugly red. The medic rolled her eyes as she not-so-gently jabbed another man in the ribs, causing him to yelp she scolded him to sit still.

“That leaves one less person for the good doctor to push off the end if the bots come chasing after,” Zarya retorted back with an easy grin of her own, sitting on the end of the truck bed as the man’s head thumped back against the metal wall. “They can sense blood. Like sharks.”

“You’re full of shit,” the man grinned back as the truck rumbled to life and began to pull away after the medic finished patching up the other man and gave the side three sharp taps. “How’s it looking out there? Lost my comm somewhere in the ditch.”

“Got them running,” Zarya hummed, setting the cannon in her lap, the light in the centerpiece casting a soft glow against the blue shell of her armor, cooled down enough that the charge couldn’t light up the foci of the armor set itself. “A small fight- seems like you lot were the only injured. No casualties.”

“And thank god for that,” the medic muttered as she slid over to the man with the injured leg. “I don’t think we have enough body bags to send anyone home in.”

The truck eventually pulled through the makeshift barrier constructed around the small settlement-turned-military outpost, grinding to a halt in front of the designated hospital space. Other medics came piling out through the doors to take care of the injured as Zarya easily hopped off the truck, cannon in hand as she picked her way across the street.

She ran into Captain Utkin before she even got to his office, the superior officer stepping out of the building and waving her to follow without waiting the second for a respectful salute. No time for pleasantries, then, Zarya mused as she plodded on after him, the smaller man’s lips pulled taut into a thin line.

“You are needed in St. Petersburg,” Utkin explained shortly, his voice conveying his dislike for this change in events as they walked to the small shipment area, a dropship already present and the last of the goods unloaded. “Chairman Volskaya requests your presence.”

“Volskaya?” The words tumbled out before Zarya could catch herself, staring at Utkin in growing bewilderment. Katya Volskaya made weapons, mechs and equipment to protect Russia from the growing omnic threat. She made herself known before the trouble began again, and her fame only grew exponentially since then. Zarya never even met the woman before, only knowing what everyone else knew from the news reports and articles and the effectiveness of her works.

 Volskaya was the most powerful, respected woman in Russia- she could call upon anyone worth their salt, so why was she calling for Zarya personally?

She asked Utkin such, which caused him to let out a full-body sigh, wordlessly passing a datapad into her hands. Zarya took her cue and tapped the screen, eyes roaming over the data present as her eyebrows rose higher and higher to her hairline.

“She was attacked?” she whispered, surprise and anger mixing into her words as she lifted her gaze to Utkin. That couldn’t be right. Two confirmed individuals got into the compound, destroyed one of the prototype mechs, killed and injured several guards before almost killing Volskaya herself. How did two people- _two-_ managed to get so close to achieving their goals in one of the safest, most guarded places in all of Russia?

 Utkin still did not look happy, but more resigned than angry now.

“It is a waste, calling you away from the field,” he grumbled. “But Volskaya’s safety is top priority. And if she requests you personally… we can’t do anything but give what she wants.”

It still didn’t explain _why_ Volskaya called her and her alone, but Zarya didn’t ask nor had time to do so as Utkin waved her off towards the ship.

“Your things are already on board. Make Russia proud while you’re gone. And you better come back, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes, sir!” Zarya couldn’t help but grin, saluting the captain before lugging her cannon on board the drop ship. Utkin was a grouchy fellow, but he cared about his men. He hated wasting soldiers on needless tasks, but protecting Volskaya from future attacks wasn’t needless in the long run. At least not until her security became air-tight and then some.

She dropped onto a seat with a relieved sigh, setting the cannon down under her for safe keeping as the pilots got ready for takeoff. Her eyes drifted to the datapad still in her lap, a thoughtful frown working its way onto her lips as she trailed a dirty finger across the soft protection, and then pulling her hand away with a wince. She would need to wash up before stepping one foot into the Volskaya compound, suddenly feeling very dirty and unseemly at the thought.

Wiping her hands uselessly over some of the exposed padding of her armor in hopes to scrape some of the filth off, Zarya’s thoughts went back to this reassignment- or rather, a talk. She wasn’t sure if it was going to be a permanent reassignment, but it still made little sense as to why Volskaya would pick her out from everyone else. She had only been in the military for only a couple of years now, a mere Sergeant. But in that short time she had turned from Champion Weightlifter to Russia’s Defender, a one-woman army in her own right as she wielded a particle cannon from a mounted unit with the same ease as one would carry a rifle.

Perhaps it was a more obvious choice in who to pick than she realized, Zarya mused as the dropship purred underfoot. She had made a name for herself on the Siberian Front, a vibrant symbol in the dust and blood of battle. She fought to protect and defend, and with so many attackers but so few defenders, Zarya filled in a niche that was so desperately lacking members, using her cannon to shield others where there were no other shields.

The particle cannon was something she was familiar with from even before the war began; her Grandfather having created the original design. A weapon which mainly focused on barriers and shields, to protect. It had evolved into having two other primary firing mechanisms as well, the energy beams and explosives meant to destroy things quickly and efficiently, to cut through rather than pierce. It was a solution to that of the German Crusaders, leaving the unwieldy use of both shield and hammer and converting both to one efficient design.

It would have been a revolutionary concept, but the initial problem was that it needed a huge energy source and a massive container, forcing it to become a mounted unit. The problems would have been fixed if production hadn’t been immediately pushed after a short testing period to prove that the particle constructs were stable enough to not implode at any given moment. Her Grandfather retired not too long after that, frustrated in that they would favor rushing production of something that was not ready, and only a handful were built before the end of the Crisis. Most were scrapped not long after that, the entire design and concept fading from all but her Grandfather’s notebooks and sharp memory.

Zarya remembered seeing the original designs as a child, marveling over its sheer size and power. Her Grandfather always told her that someday he would get back to it, to make it right, but she had never dreamed it would be some years later when she ripped the cannon off the last surviving vehicle in the carnage of her home village, its power making her blood boil hot in her veins alongside the adrenaline and determined-tempered fear as she swung the cannon to put a bubble around some of the village folk she still remembered by name even after all these years before hellfire reigned down upon them.

The armor built from the scraps of the vehicle itself was a joint-effort between herself and her Grandfather, the cannon altered beyond its original design between downtime tinkering as her village’s militia escorted the town’s residents to the next safest settlement, the omnic activity far too great in the area and defense so little to risk staying around. It was there she recruited herself into the Russian Defense Force going back out into the field, the local conflicts gaining national attention and concern.

Perhaps Volskaya called upon her because of her relations, because of the small name she was making for herself among her comrades in arms. She wasn’t sure of Volskaya knew of her Grandfather, but she wouldn’t put it pass her, as he was still a respected man in some circles of Russian society even if he kept to himself most days now. Volskaya was a resourceful woman, perhaps she knew more than Zarya knew of her. She couldn’t dwell on speculations- she would simply find out when she got there.

The report about the attack was brought back before her, carefully piecing together what had transpired as Zarya dragged her eyes across the soft light of the screen. A cloaked individual and an infamous hacker had breached the security of the factory compound. It was uncertain if they had outside help or a traitor from within, but either way they had come in. The cloaked entity bolstered the main distraction while the hacker had gone after Volskaya, but what happened afterwards was… oddly absent.

There was no clear indication that Volskaya had escaped, nor did it claim if the attackers had as well. It alluded to such, but nothing concrete. One of the mechs was also destroyed in their wake, along with half a dozen casualties who died serving to protect Volskaya, but little interior damage and their security systems were back online as soon as the intruders vacated. There was no indication as to why they would attack either, their methods quick and efficient enough to be far more than simple mercenaries trying to make quick cash on a hit. It would be foolish to think that Volskaya was without enemies, but she knew no one in Russia proper who would dare act out their grievances against her in such a manner.

Outsiders, then.

A huff was pushed out from her nose as Zarya leaned back, her head dropping quietly to the wall to stare up at the ceiling, hand loose on the pad and threatening to slip from her fingers. It was a bit much to think about, and the exhaustion of the fight was starting to seep into her head. A few hours of rest would do her some good, freshen up before running headlong into the troubles that would be her new task.

She just hoped things would start making sense once she woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Volskaya Industries, St. Petersburg, Russia**

Zarya was more than thankful that the security who were to escort her up to Volskaya’s office took one look at her as soon as she stepped off the dropship and directed her to the nearest bathroom to wash up before meeting up with the famous CEO. Washing her hands clean of grime and sticking her head under the sink was enough to make herself presentable enough, her armor already banged up and scratched in places that a bit of oil and dirt simply made it look well used.

Her feet clomped and armor clinked and scraped as she was led through the hallways, the blue paint in stark contrast with the dark uniforms and body armors that the others wore around her. She stuck out like a bright, sore thumb, from vibrant pink hair and carefully painted nails to the cobalt blue that was the rest of her as she stood at least a head higher than the tallest member of the security force, head and shoulder’s taller than the rest. If that bothered the men beside her, they did not show it.

She had been forced to leave her cannon behind, and it left Zarya feeling a tad bit exposed. She had practically been sleeping with the weapon since she acquired it, never knowing when the omnics would attack and always in need of being ready to fight. She was confident in her strength alone to get back to the ship and grab her cannon if in a pinch, and so she wasn’t entirely worried over the lack of weapon on hand.

Besides, if she ever needed one, she could just take one from one of the guards around her. They may have world-class training, but Zarya could break their arm like a toothpick if she so chose to do so. Not that she would do that, mind, but she _could_ \- if necessary. Hopefully it would never come to that.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss, two of the guards stepping and the rest remaining outside. The office was decorated with soft carpets, a mural, and windows overlooking the city of St. Petersburg across the river. And there before the window stood Katya Volskaya, hands folded behind her back and eyes forward to the world outside.

“Do you know why you are here?” Volskaya spoke, her words soft but firm as her head tilted a little to the side, enough for her gaze to flit over to the shadows that Zarya and the guards stood in.

And Zarya knew, or so she thought, but she grasped it with confidence as she stepped into the light, her footfalls muffled only slightly by the carpet as she propped her hands up to her hips to give them something to do.

“I believe I do.”

After all, what else did Volskaya want from her if not another guard? She could do that- could do that very well, in fact. One person was nothing compared to an entire platoon, and she was confident to do what she was asked until she was dismissed back to the frontlines.

Volskaya turned her head fully back towards the window, her fingers curling tighter behind her back before relaxing. “Leave us,” she commanded to the guards, who gave a quick salute before disappearing back outside, the door shutting close behind them and leaving the two women alone.

Volskaya let out a sigh, her face cool but her mouth slightly pinched in a serious line as she turned away from the window, rounding the desk to take a seat. Zarya let her hands fall from her hips to rest at her side, relaxed but ready as she remained where she was in the middle of the carpet.

“There is much to say and not enough time to do so,” she began, threading her fingers before her as she peered over her hands at Zarya. “So I will make it brief- I need you to find the hacker, Sombra.”

Zarya’s brain stalled for a moment, gaping at the woman for several seconds. The name of the hacker was something that was in the report about the attempt on Volskaya’s life, abet mentioned only briefly. That… wasn’t what she was expecting. Not at all.

“But, with all due respect, Chairman Volskaya,” Zarya found herself floundering. “This doesn’t make sense. You need a spy!”

She was a soldier, she wasn’t good at sneaking around. She was built and thrived in the thick of battle, not sulking about the shadows and making inquiries. Volskaya had enough reach and influence to get the _best_ of the best to help hunt this hacker down. Was this why she was called off the field? Utkin was right- perhaps this _was_ a waste of resources.

Volskaya didn’t say anything for a short time, her hands unfolding to pull a picture frame on her desk closer to her. Her eyes seemed shadowed, a worried crease in her brow. The look make Zarya hold her tongue, worry of her own bubbling in her chest. What had happened that would make Volskaya look so… haunted?

There was more to this than what was being let on, but Zarya couldn’t even begin to speculate as to what it was that she was missing.

“Actually, Sergeant Zaryanova-” Volskaya murmured after tracing her fingers around the frame. “No, may I call you Aleksandra?” Her eyes flitted up to Zarya, a quiet question that Zarya could only swallow and nod silently.

“Aleksandra,” she began again, setting down the picture frame with extreme gentleness. “What I need right now… is a friend.”

Volskaya was troubled, her face and her tone said as much. She was _worried_ , her brow creased and frown marring her features as her eyes drifted back down to the picture frame on the desk. Zarya couldn’t see what its contents were, but she could assume enough that Volskaya was worried for her family- her _daughter_.

That had been quite a scandal a few years back when there wasn’t a brewing crisis to worry about- a prominent CEO having a child while unmarried and unattached was the gossip for several weeks, especially when Volskaya hid it for so long. Still, she proved herself well enough to run a business _and_ be a mother at the same time, and the only folk who cared enough about it now were the old grandmothers who had nothing better to do. Zarya had only heard about it when she had been in Canada for a competition, and thought nothing of it. Being a single mother was apparently only scandalous if said mother ran a company with an iron grip, and she had found the entire gossip chain ludicrous.

It made much more sense now, in a very worrying and increasingly furious light, that maybe this hacker had threatened the livelihood of Volskaya’s daughter.

“Of course, Chairman Volskaya,” she answered with only a slight stutter of hesitance. Volskaya, it seemed, needed someone she could rely on, someone she could trust. She couldn’t trust the guards around her to protect her, couldn’t trust a mere mercenary. Zarya wasn’t sure why she decided to put her trust into her, but she didn’t want to put the woman down. They only just met- friendships didn’t work exactly like that… did they?

Volskaya seemed to read the expression on Zarya’s face well as her own expression softened slightly, rising up from the desk.

“Please, call me Katya,” she said as she circled around the desk closer to Zarya. She stood before the soldier, dark eyes gazing at her face for a long moment before she sighed softly.

“You look just like Tatyana,” she murmured, and in that one sentence Zarya felt as if someone had jumped a bucket of ice over her head and her heart seized somewhere between her chest and her throat.

Volskaya- no, Katya- smiled a soft, sad smile as Zarya quickly tried to contain the surprise and heartache.

“I mean not to bring up such a bad memory for you,” Katya added with quiet apology. “Tatyana- your mother- was a few years older than I, but we were fast friends. She married just out of school and I am regretful of losing contact with her. I am… sorry for your lost.”

“It was years ago,” Zarya mumbled, swallowing thickly as she forced her eyes towards the window. “She was… ill, then.” The image was still ingrained in her mind when she tried to close her eyes, back when she had been naught but a child and the omnics descended upon the remote village deep in Siberia during the Crisis. She didn’t want to think about it right now.

But it explained somewhat as to how Katya decided on her of all people. Zarya’s memory of her were… blurry at best, and her Grandfather- her _maternal_ grandfather- tried not to bring it up often either. They both became a bit of a melancholy mess whenever she was brought up. Katya must have pieced the dots together, or at least recognized her from when Zarya was a more common face on the news during her weightlifting days. Her drop-out the eve before the world championships to go back to her home village to fight and then joining up with the Russian Defense Force hadn’t been a secret, and she had done perhaps one or two interviews since then.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present as Katya placed a sympathetic hand on her arm, her fingers cool against the warmth of Zarya’s forearm. She blinked down at the woman before dropping her head, opening her mouth to drag the conversation back to its original track.

“I still do not understand,” she began after wetting her lips, her throat suddenly very dry. “I am a soldier. I do not have the skillset necessary for… this.”

“This person- Sombra- must be stopped and brought to justice,” Katya replied, her hand sliding away as her tone went back to serious, a slight edge of righteous anger in her voice. “Another may be more skilled, yes, but this is such a delicate matter that I need someone I can _trust_ to handle it accordingly. And I trust _you_ , Aleksandra, only you.”  She paused, her eyes alight with conviction as she stared right into Zarya. “Are you up to the task?”

Zarya felt herself squaring her shoulders, her posture agreeing to the challenge before her words did.

“I am,” she stated, and Katya smiled- a genuine, small smile that broke through the serious mask she wore that was not laden with sad thoughts and memories or worry.

“I knew you would be.” As if she had never doubted Zarya for a second. Her hand reached for something in her pocket, a holopicture placed into Zarya’s hand. “Fortunately for you, we have something that no one else has had until now.”

The picture was of a woman, dark skin and shaved head on one side, hair flipped over onto the other. She had a smug, cocky smirk that immediately made Zarya want to punch it off her face, like she knew everything and was right and everyone else was so very much wrong. She had some altercations, if the strange pieces in her hairline had anything to do with it.

She looked so unique… how could she get away without being caught for so long?

“I have already gathered a few leads,” Katya added, letting Zarya put the picture away to take the offered datapad. “Your flight to China is in four hours. All your travel documents and certifications are within this. Good luck, Aleksandra.”


End file.
